CHAPTER 69: DRAGON OF THE NORTH

The moment Natsu crossed the stone threshold of High Hrothgar, he was immediately immersed in deep a sense of peace.

At last – after the endless endeavours he and Lucy had been through to complete this trial, Natsu finally felt like he could lay down all his burdens. They accomplished what they were set out to do, they returned here, alive and breathing, perhaps against all odds. They'd proven their worth, proven their strength through bloodshed and loss – now, they were granted a moment of respite that no other was more deserving of.

Through his exhaustion and pain, Natsu still struggled to fully grasp it and let go of the tension he'd held onto for so long. The weeping wind grew silent, only distant howls carrying through the thick stone walls. He remembered the scent of fires that had burned here day and night for an eternity, a magical flame that illuminated the darkness. We are safe, we are safe, we are safe, he kept telling himself while he helped Lucy enter the hall before Gildarts closed the doors behind them, leaving the frigid cold outside. We're finally safe.

Lucy, who was barely conscious, had begun to stir awake in the familiar atmosphere. Still holding onto Natsu's arm, she took wobbly steps after the monks as they led them to the grand hall. She didn't seem to understand what would happen next as if she was still dreaming. Arngeir had taken the horn from Lucy and said something about recognizing her as the Dragon of the North, but Natsu had no idea what it would be.

"We heard you've mastered the final word of Unrelenting Force on your own. We're beyond impressed. We were supposed to gift the knowledge to you, but there's no need to do that anymore," Arngeir said calmly as they arrived in the hall. The four monks in grey robes stationed themselves in a circle, and Arngeir beckoned Lucy to step closer. "We would now speak to you. Stand between us, and prepare yourself. Few can withstand the unbridled Voice of the Greybeards. But you are ready."

Then, Lucy let go of Natsu's arm, and walked into the centre of the circle. Natsu's worried gaze stuck on her back as she went, but deep down he knew she had to do this on her own. As he and Gildarts stood by the edge of the hall, Arngeir glanced at them with an understanding nod.

"The Dragonborn's companions can choose whether they want to stay or leave now. You'll take full responsibility for what happens to you if you stay. Remember, a single whisper could be enough to kill you," Arngeir said.

Natsu shook his head. He already knew this, and he'd already made his decision. He'd never leave Lucy alone again. "I will stay."

Arngeir nodded to him, moving his eyes to the old Blade. There was something that pierced so deep in the monk's gaze, a frown forming upon his brow. By some unsaid force, Arngeir must've found out Gildarts's affiliation by just looking at him. Natsu observed from the sideline as a temporary apprehension formed between the two aged men. Greybeards and Blades strongly despised and distrusted one another, but perhaps solely for the honour of the Dragonborn, Arngeir decided to allow a Blade's presence in this sacred hall.

"I'll stay, too," Gildarts said.

"Very well," Arngeir replied, the smallest hint of a smile showing on his lips. Perhaps he knew that all unworthy souls would perish anyway when he'd speak. "Then, we'll begin."

And then the tranquillity Natsu had found the moment they entered the monastery vanished. He knew not if it was fear he felt, or dread or despair – but he stood there frozen, holding his breath, unsure if he'd live through this as the overwhelming power began to gather in the atmosphere. Lucy stood still in the middle of the circle, the firelights seemed to dim out as the Greybeards lifted their arms up, a low humming sound erupting from their throats – and that alone was almost enough to knock the young fire mage out of his consciousness.

Though Natsu tried to brace himself, when all four Greybeards began speaking at once, he knew nothing on Nirn could've ever prepared him to bear such power. All went dark for him – as if he'd been plunged out of this realm into the depths of the Void, to be crushed by the pressure of all mountains quaking and skies shattering, deafened, and utterly obliterated by the loudest dragon's roar, the primordial forces of the gods.

"Lingrah krosis saraan Strundu'ul, voth nid balaan klov praan nau! Naal Thu'umu, mu ofan nii nu, Dovahkiin, naal suleyk do Kaan, naal suleyk do Shor, ahrk naal suleyk do Atmorasewuth! Meyz nu Ysmir, Dovahsebrom. Dahmaan daar rok!"

Natsu knew not how long the monks had spoken – perhaps only a few sentences, but the ceremony had felt like an eternity. Even when they went silent again, the echo of their Shout's magnitude lingered in him, reverberating through and through his body and soul. It became a low, fading chant, as his soul captured the prayer he could not comprehend. Naal suleyk do Kaan, naal suleyk do Shor, naal suleyk do Atmorasewuth. And amidst the endless echo, he realised how incredibly small he was in the arms of the divine creation, a mere seedling of starlight, thrown into the sea of despair and fear of death where all the secrets would be found.

Yes, the fear of death.

As the Greybeards spoke to the Dragonborn, to Lucy, these words were not for him to know. The monks had warned him. A whisper alone was enough to take his life, yet he had chosen to stay, and he had chosen to die – he had laid down his head again and accepted the swing of an axe, in the form of the Greybeard's Thu'um. And he thought now if the axe had already been swung. He could not hear, he could not see, he could not feel. He had known death before, lingered on the edge of it, but this, this was complete, truest death. All he'd been, all he'd chosen, the death by fire he had wished for, it all was taken by him as he succumbed to the dark silence, so bitterly sweet.

And finally, he was afraid of it.

An overwhelming dread enveloped him at once. Frightened, he tried to grasp his senses and open his eyes, but there was still nothing but the endless void. He taught he'd found a sanctuary, but had only walked straight to his grave, and from now on Lucy would have to carry on alone. He did not want this. He did not want to die. He'd pray for the gods to let him breathe again, to pull him out of this sea, for he knew it was not in his hands anymore, only in the mercy of the gods he never believed in until now. With his spirit humbled down, he reached out for their force, for their grace, and only then did he find a hand to grasp.

Light came to his darkness as a warm hand took hold of him.

"Come back," whispered the bright, divine in Lucy's voice, "Come back from the gulches of death. Return, for your work is not done yet. Come. Open your eyes, and live."

The light disappeared then as Natsu fell from the heights, his limbs burning when his senses returned slowly. First, he could feel the cold stone underneath him, realizing he had been thrown to the ground by the Greybeard's Thu'um. Firelights emerged from the darkness again, but all was still shrouded in deadly silence. Gildarts, who seemed to have collapsed from the Thu'um as well, got up on his ghostly feet and helped Natsu to stand as well. He was still numb – if Gildarts would let him go, he'd fall again.

But he was still alive.

Even later in his life, Natsu wasn't sure if he ever comprehended what happened to him in this ceremony, but he only knew it changed him forever. A spiritual rebirth, all in all. He, too, had been strong enough to bear witness to the unbridled Voice of the Greybeards. Any lesser man would've succumbed to this power, and perhaps at last, he knew he was no lesser.

His vision was still blurry, as if he saw everything through distorted and dim glass, but first, his eyes searched for Lucy. She stood where she'd been when the ceremony began, still unmoving like a mountain, not even a shiver crossing her frame. The Greybeards lowered their arms, brought their hands together and bowed deeply to the Dragonborn. Lucy replied with the same gesture, then glanced over her shoulder. As their eyes met, Natsu realized it was Lucy's soul which had reached out her hand to him, not her physical being. And in her gaze, Natsu could tell that she knew. She had known he'd perish, but with her will alone, she had pulled him back to Nirn.

Natsu could never thank her enough for it.

"Dovahkiin," Arngeir addressed to Lucy, but Natsu didn't hear this. He was still lost within his experience, and didn't know how he'd surface from it – he just looked at Lucy, and there was nothing else in his world. "You have tasted the Voice of the Greybeards, and passed through unscathed. High Hrothgar is open to you."

"My greatest thanks," Lucy answered quietly. "I and my companion would wish to say here for a while. I have many things to discuss with you, but we're worn out by the long journey. If we could rest for a night, and –"

"Of course. Your road has been long and weary. You're welcome to stay here," Arngeir said and looked at Gildarts. "But I would like to know what business you've brought a Blade here upon."

"Ah, I knew it would come to this," Gildarts said and stepped in, struggling to maintain his balance and keep his tone intact. "I do not wish you any harm, even though I might not appreciate some of your principles. I'm here to guard and guide the Dragonborn towards her destiny, but I shall not intrude on your peace for any longer than was necessary to bring her here safely. But if I might ask," Gildarts paused, "to stay under your roof for just one night, and then I would be gone."

Arngeir remained silent for a moment. "Yes," he said then, "But we must discuss your principles as well. Dragonborn, you don't need to indulge in this conversation. Go to your quarters if you wish. We shall talk again when you've rested."

Lucy nodded to them, and then walked to Natsu. The fire mage stared at her blankly, realising he had barely heard anything Arngeir had said – he'd just seen his mouth moving, but no words came to him through the endless ringing in his ears. As Lucy stepped in front of him and her face shrouded in worry, gazing at his neck, Natsu felt something flowing down on his skin. He lifted his trembling hand to his ear and touched the liquid, not realising it was blood until saw the dark crimson colour staining his fingers.

With a warm smile, Lucy lifted her hands on his bleeding ears and cast a healing spell with the little magic she could muster – it helped just enough to let him hear again, very quietly. "Poor Natsu," she whispered. "You didn't need to bear through this."

"I wanted to," he answered, his voice shaking. "What was the ceremony about? What did they say?"

"They spoke the traditional words of greeting to a Dragonborn who has accepted their guidance. With the same words, they once greeted the young Talos before he became the Emperor," Lucy spoke softly. "If translated roughly, they said, 'Long has the Stormcrown languised, with no worthy brow to sit upon. By our breath we bestow it now to you in the name of Kyne, in the name of Shor, and in the name of Atmora of Old. You are Ysmir now, the Dragon of the North, hearken to it.'"

Though Natsu knew little of the Nordic pantheon, he understood the passion the Nords had about Talos, and the wars they fought over their beliefs to prove how deeply sacred it was to them. And now, Lucy held the same title. She was Ysmir – she was a god, and this, Natsu had felt in his soul even before the Greybeards officially crowned her in the names of the old gods. He'd known that since Riften, when he'd seen her standing tall upon the tower after she'd brought a dragon down from the skies.

Yet he remembered then the early dawn of that day, when she had visited the shrine of Talos in the graveyard. She had touched the hilt of the greatsword carved in stone, gazed up to the centuries-old eyes of the monument – and Natsu had seen the formation of energy between her and sacred stone. A connection, pure and raw and primordial like a blood tie, it had been there, and it was still there. 'We Nords should always call him Ysmir, the Dragon of the North. It's the Imperial beliefs that bleed over ours, that made us forget who he truly was. The hero of mankind, not the hero of Tamriel. And now I'll follow in his footsteps,' Lucy had said, and so she did.

Lucy smiled at him as he drifted lost in thought, lost in memory. The feeling was still the same – he'd never felt a human bearing the forces of magic with such grace and affluence and terrifying strength. For a brief while, she'd walk on Nirn as a human, but upon her death, she'd ascend into divinity. Natsu knew he would love her until then, and even ages after, for she had shown him that gods did exist.

The Stormcrown now rested on a worthy brow, once more.

Arngeir had told them that they would talk tomorrow, but little did Lucy know that once she'd closed her eyes, she'd sleep for days.

As she and Natsu had made it to their quarters, the same chamber they previously lived in, they simply collapsed on the bed and slumbered in each other's arms through the night, and the day, and the night again. On the third dawn since their arrival, Lucy was the first to awaken in the exact same position she'd fallen asleep in – tightly secured in Natsu's hold, both of them covered under his cloak, shielded from the terror of her nightmares. She smiled by herself and stayed there in silence until he woke up as well, shortly after her.

Yet not knowing why, they didn't find much to say, and perhaps there wasn't even a need for words. Lucy insisted on taking a bath, and Natsu let her go first – she wouldn't have minded him, but he shied away as he always seemed to do, this much Lucy could remember. So, after they'd both washed off all the dirt and blood and eaten some breakfast in their chamber, they headed to the main hall of the monastery, still in comfortable silence.

"Awake at last?" Gildarts greeted them. He sat by the fire with a tin of mead in his ghostly hand, Arngeir standing beside him. Lucy chuckled at the sight. Was this what the old enemies had been doing while they slept? Sharing a cup? "I was just about to ask if Master Borri would Shout a bit at your door to wake you up. It has been three days since we arrived."

"No need to," Lucy said, the length of their slumber only clearing to her now. "I'm grateful we were allowed to rest." She glanced at Natsu, who seemed equally surprised they had slept for so long, as he embarrassedly rubbed the back of his neck. He was still so sweetly dazed, yet barely hearing a thing. Natsu took a seat by the fire and withdrew from the conversation before it even began.

Arngeir bowed his head at her. "We are grateful you made it back here safely. We've heard of your latest struggles, and share condolences for your losses."

"Meanwhile you slept, I told him what happened in Forelhost, and what information we've found about the Dragon Cult," Gildarts said before Lucy could react. "We've both agreed that the time has come for Blades and the Greybeards to settle our differences. We're still… trying to figure out the common principles, but we agree that the rise of the Order is a threat to everyone."

"Indeed," Arngeir said. "We think dragons are a part of the natural order of the world and shall not be needlessly hunted down. The Blades thought to change the order to suit themselves, by wiping out the dragons. But again, we see that the natural order will be restored, one way or another. Perhaps we would have dragon allies against Alduin if the ancient Blades had not acted so arrogantly."

"Please, do not drag my ancestor's deeds into this again," Gildarts interrupted.

Arngeir scoffed, continuing. "But the Order stands for pure evil. If our wisdom can aid in banishing such darkness, and keeping it from covering the entire Nirn again, then it shall be so." Then he sighed. The negotiations with Gildarts must've tested his patience, and Lucy could understand why. "But we are not warriors. Our traditions are sacred. The Way of the Voice was first forged upon the deep understanding that war and violence are not the answer. Jurgen Windcaller, our founder, suffered a terrible defeat despite using the Thu'um, and therefore realised that the gods did not mean it to be used this way. We still follow his learnings. And we are not abandoning them."

"I've understood this very well already," Gildarts replied, frustration clear in his voice too. "I know you only use your power for the glory of gods, not for the glory of men – but I hope you understand that there will be no men, no nothing, if we allow this evil to win."

Arngeir nodded. "We do. I know your concern, but it's all in the hands of the gods," he said then. "Please, let the Dragonborn speak."

Almost amused by their bickering, Lucy took a moment to gather herself. She had wasted enough time sleeping – this business was most urgent. With each day she let slip by without finding the keys to Alduin's defeat, the victory of evil crept closer and closer. Therefore, she had to push past her hesitation, and tell them right away why she'd come here for.

"Thank you. As you must've learnt from Gildarts, I've come here to heal. While I was imprisoned, I was plagued by the vicious sorcery of the Dragon Cult to wreck my valour and turn me into Konahrik. I would've not survived without the help of my companions," Lucy said. "But there are other reasons I've come here from."

"What is it, Dovahkiin?" Arngeir asked.

"I've come to speak with Paarthurnax."

The old monk's calm surface cracked upon her words.

"Why would you wish so?" Arngeir asked, visibly shocked. "As you know, our leader lives in seclusion on the peak of this mountain. Being allowed to meet him is a great privilege."

Lucy took a breath, wondering why Arngeir seemed so hesitant about her wish to meet Paarthurnax. Her mother, upon the ethereal knowledge she'd obtained, had guided her to meet the oldest monk – and she would not budge from this. If they'd already given her the title of Ysmir, why wouldn't she be granted this privilege? What was so mystical about this Paarthurnax?

"I've gained the knowledge that your leader knows how Alduin was defeated in the past," Lucy explained. "I've been searching the keys for mankind's victory, and this is the direction I was guided into. Paarthurnax could help me forward on my path."

"Ah, this was the guidance that the Blade did not tell me about?"

"I swear, I had no idea of this either," Gildarts said sternly, gazing at Lucy with a pinched brow. "You only told me you'd come here to heal."

"As I did," Lucy answered, sighing. "But I trust my source of information, and I'm sure Paarthurnax has answers to my questions. I'm once again asking for permission to meet him."

Arngeir's mouth pressed into a thin line. His suspicious eyes landed on Gildarts, and despite all the negotiations they had shared, she could sense the bloody distrust. No matter what Gildarts would say, the monks would still think the Blades would nudge her out of balance, out of the Way of the Voice, and eventually plunge her into darkness. Perhaps in the past, the Blades hadn't served the Dragonborn with honourable intentions, but the previous Dragonborns had not faced the end of the world. They ruled empires, and did not seek to defeat the primordial world-eating dragon.

"Who gave you such information?" Arngeir asked. "Paarthurnax speaks to us rarely, and never to outsiders."

"What matters more is if you knew all along that Paarthurnax knows how Alduin was defeated. Did you keep this knowledge from me all this time?" Lucy answered with another question. "Because if you did, I'm unsure if I can trust you. You said my fate is mine to discover – and I did. Defeating Alduin is my destiny. I'm certain of it now."

"We did not know of this – even if Paarthurnax knows what happened, and even if Alduin was once defeated, here we are again," Arngeir said firmly. "The Dragonborn's destiny is to serve the will of Akatosh. Are you sure repeating the old cycles, old patterns, is his true will?"

"I know," Lucy insisted. "There are things you never taught me about being the Dragonborn, simply because you do not know those secrets either. Now I do, and you can't pretend to make your decisions for me without knowing the truth. Such an old cycle is the will of a god because his creations have failed again and again in fulfilling what they set out to do. After all, our mortal mind always swayed us away from our soul's true purpose."

"It concerns me deeply where you've learnt those truths."

"From my own blood. By it, I am bound and connected to all who bear the Dragonblood, all created by our lord father Akatosh. We are the web, and Akatosh is the spider, yet do you, truly, know what the dragons are? They are flies. Akatosh is thought to be the father of Dragons as well, but why would he send his children into war against one another?"

Everyone in the hall went silent.

"They call Alduin the Firstborn of Akatosh, the Twilight God, but Alduin is not the son of Akatosh. Alduin is his shadow," Lucy spoke. "A creature born of his darkness, with a hunger to swallow the world. We Dragonborn are the true sons and daughters of Akatosh. We were born to kill the shadow of a god before it swallows the world the gods created out of love and grace. This is my fate. This is the true will of Akatosh."

"Tell me, Dragonborn, who have you been speaking to?" Arngeir asked.

"The First."

Then, Argneir's face went pale and serious, shrouded in shadow.

"I had wished to never hear nor speak of him, especially from you. Whispers of his legacy were carried through generations of Greybeards, and hearken me, you're meddling with forces you have no understanding about. The First did not serve mankind. He served the Order, the dragons, and eventually fell deeper and deeper into darkness, until he succumbed entirely. I do not wish you to share the same unfortunate fate," Arngeir said, suddenly angered, his calmness approaching its breaking point. "This kind of arrogance for power was exactly what led to the downfall of the Dragonborn before you! Have you learnt nothing from us?"

Lucy remained still. "I know the darkness. I've glimpsed directly into it," she raised her voice just slightly, "and that is the fate that awaits the entire world if I do not fulfil my duty! I am willing to dive into the depths and sacrifice my life so that others could live. This world, created by the generous gods, is too precious to let it perish!"

"You do not understand," Arngeir muttered, shaking his head. "You do not understand that this is the path that leads to the doom of us all, too. Losing another Dragonborn to the hands of evil will destroy this beautiful world as well. You know it. You already threaded on that path, and it led you to the doorstep of the Order, and forces wicker than that. It's luring you in, the darkness of the Void, for it always pulls in those who carry the brightest light."

"But if I don't take the risk," Lucy whispered, "then who will? Do you really wish me to just stand by while the world below burns?"

"Do not confuse inaction with indifference. Often the wisest course is to wait and watch events unfold, until the time to act is clear. The Way of the Voice means peace within – and sometimes, peace means letting go. Accepting things as they are," Arngeir said. "Have you considered that Alduin was not meant to be defeated? Those who overthrew him in ancient times only postponed the day of reckoning, they did not stop it. If the world is meant to end, so be it." The monk let out a deep sigh. "Let it end and be reborn."

Lucy stared into the old monk's eyes, the waking fury of a dragon piercing into his soul. "That is exactly what the Order wants. Are you on their side, Master Angeir?"

Arngeir fell silent.

"I shall not let it end," Lucy continued then and remained quiet for a while. "One last time – will you help me, or not?"

"No," Arngeir answered. "Not now. Not until you return to the path of wisdom. The First is merely a puppet to the one we shall not speak about. You shall not reach out to Paarthurnax if you're under his influence."

But then, a voice spoke from the side of the hall, loud and clear.

"Arngeir, Rek los Dovahkiin, Strundu'ul. Rek fen tinvaak Paarthurnax."

It had been Master Einarth, speaking directly to Master Arngeir.

The old monk turned his head towards the other, his eyes humbling upon those words. Arngeir, she is Dragonborn, Stormcrown. She will speak with Paarthurnax. Master Einarth stood in the shadow, still as he observed Arngeir's reaction, ready to repeat his words if he wouldn't believe it. But gladly, Arngeir did. The voice had pierced through the hall like a lightning strike – in worry, Lucy turned her eyes to Natsu, who held his ears as he stared into the fire. The unbridled Voice of the Greybeards had almost broken him, and Lucy wished he wouldn't bear through that again.

"Dragonborn... Forgive me," Master Arngeir spoke quietly, looking into Lucy with only sincerity shining from his soul. "I was... intemperate. I allowed my emotions to cloud my judgement. Master Einarth reminded me of my duty. The decision whether or not to help you is not mine to make. Only Paarthurnax can answer that question, if he so chooses." Then he bowed to her. "Come. We will teach you the Thu'um you need to reach Paarthurnax."

Lucy nodded to him. Somehow, she could sense that there were secrets that ran deeper than Arngeir let her know, something else that caused his hesitancy. Yet what it was, she would find soon enough.

"Lucy, I assume you will return here before twilight. After I've heard what you learnt from the leader, I will leave," Gildarts said to her, whispering under his breath. "Didn't I say that dealing with these geezers would be a pain in the ar-"

As Arngeir glanced at Gildarts, the old Blade shut up in an instant. He beckoned for Lucy to follow, but before she did, she went to Natsu and waved her hand in front of his eyes. Natsu flinched awake from his dazed state and took his hands off his ears, turning his head towards Lucy. "What is it?" he asked.

"We're going to talk with Paarthurnax now, to the very peak of this mountain. Are you ready?" Lucy asked, articulating properly, and speaking louder so he could hear better. "If you want, you can stay here."

Natsu shook his head. "I'm coming with you. I'm fine, no need to worry."

"Really?"

He nodded. "Well, I hope that this monk won't shout at us much… Other than that, I'll be fine…"

Lucy chuckled and reached out her hand for him, and then they followed Arngeir and the other monks to the courtyard.

When they stepped outside, dark clouds shielded the sun, and the wildest tempest shrouded the mountaintop in an unpassable whirlwind. From the door of the monastery, Lucy couldn't even see the peak of the mountain – in such a heavy mist, they would not be able to get there with a levitation spell, and the winds would tear them down in an instant if they tried. The monks led them to the gate that stood by the edge of the courtyard, and stopped there.

"The path to Paarthurnax lies behind this gate," Arngeir said. No iron bars or doors kept it closed – it was wind alone that blocked the way. "This Thu'um will open the way." Then the monk turned towards the raging currents and whispered, "Lok vah koor."

Though the words were gentle, Natsu still shuddered upon them. Lucy held tight to his hand and watched as the will of the wind was bent by the Thu'um. Slowly, it stopped blowing and the mist cleared out ahead of them, and Lucy understood the purpose of the Shout. Clear skies, it said, pure and simple.

"This your final gift from us, Dragonborn," Arngeir said, turning towards them. "Use it well. Clear skies will blow away the mist, but only for a time. The path to Paarthurnax is perilous, not to be embarked upon lightly. Keep moving, stay focused on your goal, and you will reach the summit."

Lucy replied with a graceful bow, and then she and Natsu walked through the gate, soon disappearing from the Greybeard's sight as the mist enveloped them again.

A/N: Hi guys! Hope you enjoyed the chapter!

Mostly, in this part of the story, I've struggled with the Blades vs Greybeards dilemma. In the game, there's so much shit that doesn't even make sense, so I'm trying hard to transfer some original elements from the game and combine them with my own ideas to make things make sense. Here, the Greybeards don't know about how Alduin was defeated - honestly this was the biggest problem for me in the game. Why go through all the trouble with Blades, to Sky Haven Temple and all, if Greybeards knew about the stuff all along? Here, it's more about philosophical differences between the two factions than having the same knowledge. But yeah, I'm really, really excited to write the next chapter and meeting with Paarthurnax! :D

Next up: Throat of the World